


Out of the Cold

by MissusCissaMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusCissaMalfoy/pseuds/MissusCissaMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold night in Hogsmeade, Lucius Malfoy stops at The Three Broomsticks for a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Cold

The air was cold as Lucius Malfoy walked through Hogsmeade, his cane clacked rhythmically against the cobblestones with each step he took. A shiver ran up his spine and he couldn’t repress a shudder. He breathed in sharply through his nose and let it out slowly, pausing to look around. He was cold, there was no doubt about that, and he found himself wishing he had worn his heavy cloak, as his wife had suggested. He also found himself wondering why he would even consider going out in the middle of January in his light cloak. He cursed himself silently and continued walking. 

Realizing his mouth was dry, he decided he needed a drink. He knew that the Three Broomsticks was the only decent place around, so he entered. The place was nearly empty, he noticed as he strode in, kicking the light snow from his boots and stopping to enjoy the sudden warmth. He looked around and headed toward the bar, where the woman he knew as Madame Rosmerta was wiping the counter. 

Rosmerta looked up as he entered and the corners of her mouth twitched. “Mr. Malfoy,” she greeted, and he glanced at her.

“Rosmerta,” he returned, pulling down the hood of his cloak and freeing his sleek blond locks. 

“How are you this evening?” she asked as he sat at a stool in front of her. 

A smile threatened to pull at his lips; he had always held a certain softness toward the woman, since they had gone to school together. “Fine,” he said, “and you, Rosmerta?”

“Fine,” she echoed, absentmindedly polishing a glass. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He seemed to think for a moment before responding, “The usual,” and looking at her with a quirked eyebrow. 

She smirked. “Took you long enough.” With that, she turned and got him the drink she ordered every time he had come in for the past few months; a firewhiskey with a little bit of butterbeer to warm him up. She turned and placed it in front of him before going back to her task of tidying up.

He took it and began to sip at it, watching her closely. The firewhiskey burned down his throat and the butterbeer soothed it. The butterbeer’s warmth immediately flowed through his veins and heated him back to his regular temperature, if not a little warmer. With the alcohol of the firewhiskey, he allowed the smile to take over his face while he watched Rosmerta go about her duties. She turned to him and noticed his smile immediately, the expression foreign to her. She took time to study the way his lips curved upward, and the slight creases in the corners of his grey eyes, the grey eyes that had enchanted her for so long. 

Lucius looked down at the counter, unable to meet her gaze any longer, and downed the rest of his drink. He placed a few coins on the counter where his eyes had just been resting, and stood up. “Goodnight, Rosmerta,” he said, and took her hand. He looked into her eyes once more before gently pressing his lips to her knuckles. A light blush dusted over her cheeks and he smirked as he straightened up. Without another word, he pulled his hood back up and walked out.

“Goodnight, Lucius.”


End file.
